When you come around, you're in a conversion van.

There were a dozen people crammed into the back with you, a few of them working on patching up the ones that had taken a beating from Marco. Some eyes met yours as you looked around, but no one said anything to you.

Your wrists and ankles were zip tied, but you were the only one who seemed to be sitting on a cushion, and you were certainly the only one who was buckled into your chair. That part made sense, since you'd been unconscious when they loaded you in.

You weren't blindfolded, or gagged.

You didn't know what to think of that, but you already knew why you were in the van. You might not know where you're going, but you're pretty sure you know who's going to be there when you arrive.

You just hope Marco's alive.

"You really aren't saying a fucking thing," the one guy sitting across from you says, regarding you with a strange expression on his face. He's got a scar above his right eye that goes up his forehead. Short blonde hair, no eyebrows, and a toothy grin that fades as you remain quiet.

"When they said you were more doll than anything else, I thought they meant like, you bruise easily or some shit. Hells, you're practically mute. You don't even look afraid. If I hit you, would it even hurt?"

"Miss Kakusho, can you feel pain?" Hongo's words from your ER visit echo in your mind.

But a lot has changed since then.

"I'm worth more alive." You say softly, eyes looking down at your hands.

"It does talk," he says before laughing. "Your fucking knight aside, this is one of the easiest jobs I've had in a while."

"Is..." You aren't sure you want the question answered.

"Is he dead?" The man asks and laughs again. "Fuck if I know. I don't do proof of life checks on people who get in my fucking way.

"Bastard took two taser hits and a coupl'ah bullets though. Broke a few bones and knocked Rivers' out fucking cold, so I ain't losin' any sleep over it." He grunts.

You don't say anything. You don't even flinch from his explanation. Something in his tone is discordant from his words, and that gives you a strange sense of comfort, but you aren't sure you want to hold onto it. You aren't sure how you could ever face Thatch if his brother was seriously injured, and at the same time, you're already certain he wouldn't hold it against you.

You had no idea how long it had been since you blacked out in the apartment, but you imagined Thatch was already in a frenzy. You knew your parents weren't doing all of this on their own, but you couldn't imagine anyone strong enough to risk Pops' wrath. At best your parents were going to end up in jail for the rest of their lives.

At worst...

You didn't want to think about it. Thinking about anything beyond the current moment was pointless. You didn't know why you'd been kidnapped. It didn't make sense to you, but you didn't know anything in the first place.

The Plan.

Your stomach twists.

The rest of the ride is mostly quiet. The men grumble to themselves about their injuries, and how their boss should try and get more money for the trouble. Whoever they work for, it seems a bad idea, the blonde across from you saying that whining like that would get them all dismissed.

The way he says it leaves you with the impression that there wouldn't be a severance package involved, but no one would have to worry about money ever again.

When the van stops the blonde looks at you for a long moment. It's a strange sensation. It's not like he's leering, it's not like he's thinking anything cruel. It almost feels like he's trying to decide if he should bother asking, or just knock you out again.

"You're gonna be a good girl, yeah?" He questions, holding a knife in his hands.

You look at the knife and then back to him. "I won't run."

"Heh. It's wild that I actually believe you." He grins as he cuts the zip ties from your ankles. "Betray that, little dolly, and you'll never walk on your own again."

You don't find it particularly wild that you believe him.

You're unbuckled from the van wall and the blonde man even offers his hand to you when you get to the edge of the door. It's a decent step down and you accept his hand without thinking. He raises a brow, but doesn't say anything as he, and twelve others walk with you through an underground parking lot.

Running would be useless in the best of conditions. You didn't jog or run to exercise, and you were quite obviously underground at the moment. Or set into the ground enough that it was easier to seal up the walls.

There's a few other cars, and you find yourself relaxing when you see your parents' car. You expected as much, but it's a relief to know what you're walking into.

Parking lot, to a hallway. It's a long walk, with three people in front of you and the rest behind. You weren't sure why there were so many just for you. Plenty of them probably would've preferred staying in the van, considering how they groaned and grumbled under their breath during the walk.

When you come through a heavy metal door, you're outside. It's clear, and sunny. You don't feel like you were out for long, so it can't be much past lunch at the worst. You expected it to be dark for some reason, as though dastardly things only happened at night.

"Eyes forward, little doll." The blonde says, and you oblige. It's not easy to see around all the bodies walking with you anyway, and you don't know the city well enough to even guess where you are.

You walk between buildings for long enough that you're starting to worry your legs are going to wear out before you reach this new destination. Some part of you is surprised your parents willingly walked this far.

Though they likely had shoes. It's a small mercy that your path so far had been paved, but even so your feet are starting to ache.

The blonde man finally enters a new building, filing a few people in ahead of him. He stays back just long enough to grab you by the back of your shirt. He doesn't jerk you around, but instead guides you firmly as you both enter into the large warehouse.

You walk a little further, thankfully toward what looks to be an office set inside the warehouse. One of his men opens this door, and he walks in with you.

The room is minimalist. Concrete floor, some windows to see out into the warehouse area, and cinder block walls. It looks like there might have been a few desks and other amenities in here, but they were all removed.

Now there's just a couple metal tables, and a few chairs.

Your parents are seated on either side of a man you'd seen a time or two. Your parents never introduced you, and you'd really only caught a glimpse of him. Tall, muscular, he had a uniquely shaped set of sideburns, a harsh thin beard, and a pair of sunglasses on his face.

He was usually in a marine uniform.

"There you are," the stern-looking man says. "You're late."

"Little miss tinker toy here had one hell of a guard dog." The blonde answers, setting you down in the chair across from everyone else.

"Casualties?"

"Him, maybe, but none of ours."

"Maybe?"

"Tough fucker, but I didn't waste time checking on him on our way out."

"Hm." The stern man is silent. So's everyone else. Not even your parents seem eager to speak while he's thinking.

"Fine. Aid the perimeter, once we have our little chat with Miss Kakusho, we'll be relocating."

The blonde and his men file out without another word, and when the door closes you look back, blankly, at your parents and the man between them.

"I thought you said she'd changed." The stern man says and your parents flinch.

"She had, she has," your father insists.

"She talked back to me," your mother adds, irritation on her face. "Even agreed to bar us from the wedding!"

"Still looks like a doll." He asserts. "One without shoes."

There's an awkward silence, and the stern man makes a motion that's enough to prompt your parents. In the span of a second you go from being an object people are talking about, to an object people are talking to.

"Doll, sweetie," your mother begins, standing up and bringing her chair over to you. "I know you're not happy with us right now, but we did this for your own good."

The lie twists in your stomach, but you only nod.

"Those... awful Edwards forced you to push us away, I just know it, and then they kidnapped you, and wouldn't let you talk to us!" She insists, her voice and volume getting more intense. You manage to stay still when she puts her hands on your arm, but the touch brings a surprising revulsion. "We know the truth. We know you wouldn't abandoned your own parents.

"You're such a good daughter, you wouldn't shun us after all we've done for you." She's rubbing your back with one hand, looking over at your father.

For all her words, she hasn't asked anyone to remove the zip tie from your wrists.

Your father pulls up his seat on the other side of you, and turns your face enough that you're looking at him. You don't know if you have the same gaze as before, but you've been trying to return to how you were just a month ago. The more dull and hollow, the less you had to worry about being corrected.

"Doll, we need you to do one more thing for us, and then The Plan will be over and done and we won't have to worry about it anymore, alright?" He prompts. You can feel your body twitch at the mention of the Plan.

The Plan was the most important thing— or was it? It was, The Plan was the most important thing, and you had to do everything you could to make sure that things went according to it. There was nothing else as important, not you, not—.

Thatch.

"If I have to get my due from his bones-." Your father's old threat rings a little more dangerously right now.

"Yes, father." You answer.

"Good." He asserts. "Your role will be crucial, Doll, so you need to get with it quickly." Your father begins to explain. Light catches your eye and your gaze shifts to the Rolex around your father's wrist before you go back to looking at nothing.

"You're going to convince the NWO that the Edwards mistreated you," your mother begins to explain and you can't stop the flicker of emotion that slips over your face.

Your parents don't see it, but you're not alone with them. You try to ignore the stern man and focus on your mother. Whether he saw anything or not, looking at him would give you away even more.

"They coerced you into moving in with Thatch right away, and they wouldn't let us speak with you. You're going to tell them that that brutish oaf threatened us," She grabs your face, squishing your cheeks and making sure you're looking at her. "And you better make sure they believe it. He threatened us, and he threatens you, understand?"

She releases your face before you have time to nod to appease her and continues on.

"Kidnapping, coercion, threats - all so they could whisk you away without anyone knowing to sell you on the black market!" She finishes triumphantly.

That explains why your parents made that proposition to Pops. There would be a grain of truth to things when they decided to spin their tale later on. It was likely they simply hadn't expected that he'd get so angry they would end up leaving without you.

"Human trafficking is a serious crime," your father adds. "Even if the charges don't stick, the family's social standing would take a serious hit. The allegations could affect their businesses, and -."

"Enough." The stern man interrupts, and your stomach knots so fast you nearly hurl. "Pay attention to your daughter."

Cold. You feel cold. Your lungs hurt and you're pretty sure you're sweating. You don't understand why, but you're terrified.

He's seeing you. Not the doll.

"She's only pretending."

You can't flinch. You can't move. You can barely breathe.

"Say it." He commands, but even if you could speak you don't know what he wants you to say. "Say that Thatch Edward is a violent, terrible man."

Oh.

"He's - he's," you start to choke on your words, tears welling up in your eyes. You knew better than to run earlier, and you know it would be pointless now, but you want to get away from this man with every fiber of your being. "He's a... a..."

If you don't tell him what he wants to hear, he's going to kill you. He hasn't said as much but you seem to understand it down into your bones.

If you don't die, you'll want to.

"He's a... ter- *hic* - terrible-."

"No," he interrupts. When he stands up your heart starts hammering in your chest. You've never been more terrified of someone else before. You can barely breathe, but you hear his words loud and clear.

"Not 'he'. Thatch. Edward."

You try to speak, you really do. You try to tell the demon standing over you what he wants to hear, but you can't get the words out. You can't say it. You don't want to say it.

Even if he beats you.

But if he hits you, it won't be like your mother or father.

Fear, turmoil, and your parents on either side of you trying to get you to answer him coil in on you. You try to brace to take the expected beating, you try to lie to appease him and play along, you want to shout defiance at him.

Instead you throw up on his shoes.

"Doll!" Your mother sounds legitimately worried, and you can feel her pushing you back into the chair.

"Vergo, please, she-." Your father starts, but something causes him to fall silent.

"This is going to require time." He says, emotionless. "I'll send some people in to carry her. Go to the secondary location, and I'll meet you there."

"Yes sir, thank you." Your father says. There's a moment's silence before he grabs the front of your shirt, and hauls you out of the chair.

"You IDIOT!" He bellows, shaking you. "If he kills you, he'll kill us next! Pull yourself together you ungrateful little bitch!"

"Ralf -."

"Shut the fuck up." He snaps at Mellanny. You're barely on your feet, but you're a lot less afraid of your parents than Vergo, and you can feel your senses settling.

Your father watches you until you manage to focus on him, a deep, angry and fearful expression on his face.

"Listen to me, Doll. We had a plan. It was a good plan and it was pretty straight forward, but then we met someone and things got messed up, and we ended up with a different plan. The Plan. The all-consuming must-not-fail plan, in which YOU are the key.

"If this fails, we die." He says, and you realize he's not exaggerating. His hands are trembling, and his anger at you is nearly overshadowed by his fear of someone else. "It won't be pretty, it won't be fast. You might not die with us."

He pulls you in close, a manic look in his eyes. "But you will wish for it, of that I do not doubt, because his ire will not be sated by our corpses alone."

"Who?" You know better than to ask, but the question slips your lips anyway.

Your father laughs in your face and shoves you down to the floor. "If you die never knowing his name, Doll, you'll thank me."

He looks down at you as you stay on the floor. You were relieved that his shove didn't hurt, you couldn't steady yourself as easily as usual with your hands still tied.

"I would advise you to do as I'm sure your fiance actually desires," your father says after a moment. "That dull oaf cares for you. I expect he'd prefer you denounce him, than die defying the inevitable."

"And quickly," your mother adds. "We can explain away a day or two, consoling our poor, traumatized daughter, but much longer than that, and he'll just cut his losses."

The blonde from earlier comes into the space a moment later, and kneels down beside you.

"Alright little doll, time to move." He picks you up, putting you over his shoulder unceremoniously. "It's a rocky walk to the van. Boss says I forgot your shoes, so the boss says I get to carry you."

He claps a heavy smack against the back of your thigh. "Puke on me though, and I'll start dislocating your joints until I feel better."